When I was 17 and very cheekily drinking and going out underage, my body had this uncanny knack to bounce back. Alcohol induced hazes didn't come with punishments attached in the form of horrendous hangovers, the tiredness didn't really effect you and a boozy bender could consist of four or five consecutive nights of going out without so much as a bat of an eyelid from yours truly.
That kind of resilience doesn't last though and I think that at about 20, that whole 'bounce back' thing kind of started to die. I had to pick and choose my battles, either drinking and going home early or not drinking and going home late. I figured out fairly early that it was much easier to be tired OR hung over rather than tired AND hungover. I know, right- LAME.
Yes, I was lame and until recently I had pretty well come to terms with the fact that I would never be able to reclaim my body's former glory. Never again would I be able to wake up like nothing had happened, or without having little cartoon birdies flying around my head because I drank too much tequila. I comforted myself by saying 'it was good while it lasted' or 'it's better to have bounced back and lost your ability than to have never bounced back at all". Until that is, I woke up this morning feeling particularly elastic.
You see, being a resilient binge drinker is all about conditioning. You don't see marathon runner going into a big race all 'half cocked'. Boxers don't go into a fight all 'willy nilly' without serious training before hand. You shouldn't binge drink without properly limbering yourself up for the beating you are about to give your liver. It's just common sense, really.
So it seems that after a year of playing rugby (yes, I am crediting my alcoholic conditioning to Old Collegians rugby club), I am once again able to 'bounce back'.
Last night I went to bed/passed out, surprisingly not still in my clothes, but very merry. This morning I woke up (potentially still drunk) feeling like a million bucks. Sure, if I tip my head upside down I feel a little like I'm swimming. Sure, my eyes are a little bleary but I'm not tired, I don't feel seedy and thanks to my jumbo, extra strong latte, the red bull in my purse, panadol and some eyedrops (just to be safe), I think I'm going to continue to feel fine.
There is, of course, the possibility that this hangover will be a creeper. You know, those awful hangovers that lure you into a false sense of security and don't hit you until mid afternoon, just when you thought it was safe to let your guard down. Yeah, hoping it's not one of those because that is going to suck. Although, as a general rule I tend to sell a lot more shit at work when I'm hungover. Must be something about the smell of vodka emanating from my pores that gets people in the mood for wasting their money, but who's complaining?
Anyway, I am supposed to be you know, working, so TTFN.
-Nadia X
Edit: Yep, it was a creeper. I suppose I haven't returned to form....best to test that theory though with more benders and of course, by conditioning my liver for future beatings. :P - N
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Friday, November 18, 2011
Space-a-phobic?
So I'm afraid of space and no, I don't mean that in the 'opposite of claustrophobic' way. We're not talkin' wide open spaces here, I'm talking space as in 'outer'. You know, where all the stars live as balls of burning gas billions of miles away (did you get my Lion King quote?).
No, seriously, the thought of outer space terrifies me. Now don't get me wrong, I've often layed on the ground and looked up at the sky and marveled at the fact that the world exists. I start to think about how the sky looks domed and how the Earth is round and how this little thing called gravity keeps us from falling off it's surface. I think about how we are just a tiny spec in this vast universe and how infinite space is and how honestly, that freaks me out but until the other day I was never truly terrified by space. Until that is, I watched James May's "At the Edge of space" and he started to crunch the numbers.
So Mr. May got to talking about space and about different theories to do with the universe. He started to say that some theorists believe that all the stars are slowly being drawn towards black holes that will eventually engulf them. He also talked about gravitational pulls that are drawing objects in the universe closer together so that eventually everything will collide with one another and, you know, explode. That wasn't the scary part though. The scary part was when he estimated that this wouldn't happen for probably another 200, 000 trillion years!
Now for most that would have been a 'phew' moment because by golly, that means that you won't be alive to see the end when it is nigh. For me, that's when my mind went "holy shit!" because I actually can't fathom how long 200, 000 trillion years is. I don't even know how much a trillion is in the scheme of the whole 'illion' deal. What comes before a trillion? A billion? And what comes after? A gazillion? Is it a million, billion, trillion, gazillion? Is that the way it goes? I don't know! 200, 000 trillion years?! Well, fuck you, James May, I'm having none of it (no, I take that back. I love you James May).
Anyway, I suppose if nothing else, this epiphany has shed some light on why I silently judged other children who wanted to be astronauts when I was growing up. This irrational fear may have also contributed to my dislike of the use of gold stars in the education system, as well as my general abhorrence to all movies (bar Star Wars) that are set in 'the great beyond'.
In conclusion: I am space-a-phobic. It scares the shit out of me- maybe not literally- but perhaps if you shot me into space, maybe then, literally.
Space. Not a fan.
-Nadia X
No, seriously, the thought of outer space terrifies me. Now don't get me wrong, I've often layed on the ground and looked up at the sky and marveled at the fact that the world exists. I start to think about how the sky looks domed and how the Earth is round and how this little thing called gravity keeps us from falling off it's surface. I think about how we are just a tiny spec in this vast universe and how infinite space is and how honestly, that freaks me out but until the other day I was never truly terrified by space. Until that is, I watched James May's "At the Edge of space" and he started to crunch the numbers.
So Mr. May got to talking about space and about different theories to do with the universe. He started to say that some theorists believe that all the stars are slowly being drawn towards black holes that will eventually engulf them. He also talked about gravitational pulls that are drawing objects in the universe closer together so that eventually everything will collide with one another and, you know, explode. That wasn't the scary part though. The scary part was when he estimated that this wouldn't happen for probably another 200, 000 trillion years!
Now for most that would have been a 'phew' moment because by golly, that means that you won't be alive to see the end when it is nigh. For me, that's when my mind went "holy shit!" because I actually can't fathom how long 200, 000 trillion years is. I don't even know how much a trillion is in the scheme of the whole 'illion' deal. What comes before a trillion? A billion? And what comes after? A gazillion? Is it a million, billion, trillion, gazillion? Is that the way it goes? I don't know! 200, 000 trillion years?! Well, fuck you, James May, I'm having none of it (no, I take that back. I love you James May).
Anyway, I suppose if nothing else, this epiphany has shed some light on why I silently judged other children who wanted to be astronauts when I was growing up. This irrational fear may have also contributed to my dislike of the use of gold stars in the education system, as well as my general abhorrence to all movies (bar Star Wars) that are set in 'the great beyond'.
In conclusion: I am space-a-phobic. It scares the shit out of me- maybe not literally- but perhaps if you shot me into space, maybe then, literally.
Space. Not a fan.
-Nadia X
Thursday, November 17, 2011
You will die if....
I'm a bit of a goose, no really, I am. I like to scare myself. I get a sick little thrill from feeling goosebumps prickle my skin, my toes curl up in terror and my hair stand on end. I get less of a thrill when I can't sleep at night because I think there are zombies living in my closet. I call it 'can't sleep, clown will eat me' syndrome but that's not the point that I'm trying to make.
My point is that no matter how many scary movies I watch, no matter how many thrillers I consume or how many shows I watch with names like 'Ghost Hunters' and 'Paranormal state' and 'Ghost Lab', I can't help feeling that my fear is somewhat overridden by my astonishment at how stupid people are.
In the case of movies, these people are of course, fictional but in these so called 'reality' paranormal shows, the people are very much real. These people literally live in fear of their homes for YEARS before they try to deal with the problem. You have terrified kids, mums at the end of their tether, dogs going ape shit, words and symbols 'allegedly' being carved into people's flesh and whenever they are interviewed they say things like 'oh, I've had almost as much as I can take' or 'I'm almost at breaking point'. Almost? Really? Almost!? And what was it that led you to breaking point? Was it the fact that your kid's head rotated 180 degrees or was it the blood dripping from the walls that really got your goat? Almost? Please! I would have been out of there as soon as that husky, somewhat creepy voice whispered 'get out!'.
The other thing I have noticed is that these people always seem clueless about the paranormal and about what seems to aggravate entities of a ghostly nature. In most of these TV shows, the 'clients' (the haunted) are interviewed by the 'investigators' (usually kids or fat men with video recorders) and one of the questions that they are ALWAYS asked is 'so, can you think of anything that may have brought about this paranormal activity?'. Of course, they always answer with a resounding 'no'. Until later on when they suddenly seem to remember little insignificant facts like 'oh, when I was ten I offered my soul to the devil for a cookie'; or 'oh yeah, we played with a Ouija board a bunch of times and conjured Satan'; or 'oh, that's right, our house is located on an Indian burrial ground' and so on and so forth. Like I said, little insignificant facts.
So with that said, sometimes being haunted isn't your fault. That's right, sometimes it's just gosh darn bad luck but here are some helpful tips...
If you live on any property that used to be a 'plantation' or had 'plantation' in the name, it's haunted. If you have a house with doors to rooms that lock from the outside, it's haunted. If your house is old and you have a basement, an attic, a cellar, a loft or any place that looks like it could have once been a dungeon, your house is haunted. Anything that is on or near creepy woods or has barns, narrow stairwells or used to be something along the lines of an old church, school house or insane asylum- gonna go out on a limb here and say, probably haunted.
Here's another helpful tip from yours truly: NEVER renovate your old house because from experience, ghosts don't tend to like it. Another hot tip: don't attempt spirit communication by trying to goad your ghostie into revealing itself becuase best case scenario, it DOES show it self and you shit yourself. Worst case scenario, the walls start shaking and your house tries to 'cleanse itself' of you (i.e. tries to kill you) and lets be honest, this scenario still ends with you shitting yourself, only you're dead and soiled instead of just soiled.
So there you go. Some tips about the paranormal that may or may not have known. Basic rule of thumb: everywhere is haunted and the only thing you can really do, is give your house up to the beasties because lets face it, they're invisible and you're never going to win that fight.
-Nadia X
My point is that no matter how many scary movies I watch, no matter how many thrillers I consume or how many shows I watch with names like 'Ghost Hunters' and 'Paranormal state' and 'Ghost Lab', I can't help feeling that my fear is somewhat overridden by my astonishment at how stupid people are.
In the case of movies, these people are of course, fictional but in these so called 'reality' paranormal shows, the people are very much real. These people literally live in fear of their homes for YEARS before they try to deal with the problem. You have terrified kids, mums at the end of their tether, dogs going ape shit, words and symbols 'allegedly' being carved into people's flesh and whenever they are interviewed they say things like 'oh, I've had almost as much as I can take' or 'I'm almost at breaking point'. Almost? Really? Almost!? And what was it that led you to breaking point? Was it the fact that your kid's head rotated 180 degrees or was it the blood dripping from the walls that really got your goat? Almost? Please! I would have been out of there as soon as that husky, somewhat creepy voice whispered 'get out!'.
The other thing I have noticed is that these people always seem clueless about the paranormal and about what seems to aggravate entities of a ghostly nature. In most of these TV shows, the 'clients' (the haunted) are interviewed by the 'investigators' (usually kids or fat men with video recorders) and one of the questions that they are ALWAYS asked is 'so, can you think of anything that may have brought about this paranormal activity?'. Of course, they always answer with a resounding 'no'. Until later on when they suddenly seem to remember little insignificant facts like 'oh, when I was ten I offered my soul to the devil for a cookie'; or 'oh yeah, we played with a Ouija board a bunch of times and conjured Satan'; or 'oh, that's right, our house is located on an Indian burrial ground' and so on and so forth. Like I said, little insignificant facts.
So with that said, sometimes being haunted isn't your fault. That's right, sometimes it's just gosh darn bad luck but here are some helpful tips...
If you live on any property that used to be a 'plantation' or had 'plantation' in the name, it's haunted. If you have a house with doors to rooms that lock from the outside, it's haunted. If your house is old and you have a basement, an attic, a cellar, a loft or any place that looks like it could have once been a dungeon, your house is haunted. Anything that is on or near creepy woods or has barns, narrow stairwells or used to be something along the lines of an old church, school house or insane asylum- gonna go out on a limb here and say, probably haunted.
Here's another helpful tip from yours truly: NEVER renovate your old house because from experience, ghosts don't tend to like it. Another hot tip: don't attempt spirit communication by trying to goad your ghostie into revealing itself becuase best case scenario, it DOES show it self and you shit yourself. Worst case scenario, the walls start shaking and your house tries to 'cleanse itself' of you (i.e. tries to kill you) and lets be honest, this scenario still ends with you shitting yourself, only you're dead and soiled instead of just soiled.
So there you go. Some tips about the paranormal that may or may not have known. Basic rule of thumb: everywhere is haunted and the only thing you can really do, is give your house up to the beasties because lets face it, they're invisible and you're never going to win that fight.
-Nadia X
Monday, November 14, 2011
Case of the ex
Two little letters, one syllable; more of a sound really and yet it is enough to strike fear into the hearts and minds of women and men everywhere. That one little utterance, that flexing of your tongue as it moves to form words, one word actually, 'ex'. As in 'the', or at least 'one of'.
Yes, ex. I saw mine not a week ago and the experience, like it always does, left me pensive.
I'm not going to lie, I dislike the dude. Not for anything he has done or for anything in our past but because I am older now and my eyes are wide open. I can finally see all the things I couldn't see before: that he is rude and arrogant, impolite, selfish, self absorbed and well, kinda dumb. In the spirit of being truthful I will also admit that that the simple act of him existing often offends me and quite frankly, I wish he wouldn't do it, but then I'm dramatic that way.
So with all of that said, if you asked me if I hated him, I will reply no because I really don't. I thoroughly dislike him, yes, but I am indifferent to him. Mostly I don't like seeing him because it is awkward, the kind of awkward that makes your eyes bugg out and insides squirm. I have nothing to say to him but if I don't talk to him then I'm being immature, I also have nothing to say to the new girlfriend and yet I am forced to talk and be nice to her. I have nothing, period and it's frustrating keeping up appearances. We're not friends. We never will be and yet once or twice a year I have to play make believe.
I think once upon a time it was a 'winning thing' because it's always a competition with the ex to see who has 'moved on first' and with whom. Who's more successful, happier, better off? Who cares? I don't. That's the truth actually, I don't. He brought 'Tammy'. Cue blonde haired, petite little Italian girl. I brought my two cousins, one aged 7, the other 5, my grandmother, both siblings, the siblings girl friend, my auntie, my uncle and my olds (mum and dad). No mans in sight and I didn't feel inferior because of it (that's the not caring part).
And THAT, that act of not caring is how I know I'm right when I say I'm indifferent. I think I can still dislike someone and be indifferent to them. Once upon a time I would have fretted over seeing him because he goes through girlfriends like underpants, so no doubt he would have one of them there. I don't date people that often, lets be honest, so the chances of me ever having some man candy to flaunt at one of these things are slim, and I USED to care. Not so much anymore.
So what did I do? I said hello, did the obligatory 'hey, how ya doing?' and then I proceeded to mingle, I danced like a fool with my little cousins and whipped them around the floor, I drank a little, danced a little more and then I left. Indifferent.
So I suppose the curse of the ex is finally over. I have been indifferent for what seems like a life time but there always existed that sense of competition. Not anymore. This time was the first time i really didn't care what he thought of me or who was 'winning'. As far as I'm concerned I've won. Great friends, great family, a uni degree, a good sense of self. Couldn't really ask for more.
-Nadia X
Yes, ex. I saw mine not a week ago and the experience, like it always does, left me pensive.
I'm not going to lie, I dislike the dude. Not for anything he has done or for anything in our past but because I am older now and my eyes are wide open. I can finally see all the things I couldn't see before: that he is rude and arrogant, impolite, selfish, self absorbed and well, kinda dumb. In the spirit of being truthful I will also admit that that the simple act of him existing often offends me and quite frankly, I wish he wouldn't do it, but then I'm dramatic that way.
So with all of that said, if you asked me if I hated him, I will reply no because I really don't. I thoroughly dislike him, yes, but I am indifferent to him. Mostly I don't like seeing him because it is awkward, the kind of awkward that makes your eyes bugg out and insides squirm. I have nothing to say to him but if I don't talk to him then I'm being immature, I also have nothing to say to the new girlfriend and yet I am forced to talk and be nice to her. I have nothing, period and it's frustrating keeping up appearances. We're not friends. We never will be and yet once or twice a year I have to play make believe.
I think once upon a time it was a 'winning thing' because it's always a competition with the ex to see who has 'moved on first' and with whom. Who's more successful, happier, better off? Who cares? I don't. That's the truth actually, I don't. He brought 'Tammy'. Cue blonde haired, petite little Italian girl. I brought my two cousins, one aged 7, the other 5, my grandmother, both siblings, the siblings girl friend, my auntie, my uncle and my olds (mum and dad). No mans in sight and I didn't feel inferior because of it (that's the not caring part).
And THAT, that act of not caring is how I know I'm right when I say I'm indifferent. I think I can still dislike someone and be indifferent to them. Once upon a time I would have fretted over seeing him because he goes through girlfriends like underpants, so no doubt he would have one of them there. I don't date people that often, lets be honest, so the chances of me ever having some man candy to flaunt at one of these things are slim, and I USED to care. Not so much anymore.
So what did I do? I said hello, did the obligatory 'hey, how ya doing?' and then I proceeded to mingle, I danced like a fool with my little cousins and whipped them around the floor, I drank a little, danced a little more and then I left. Indifferent.
So I suppose the curse of the ex is finally over. I have been indifferent for what seems like a life time but there always existed that sense of competition. Not anymore. This time was the first time i really didn't care what he thought of me or who was 'winning'. As far as I'm concerned I've won. Great friends, great family, a uni degree, a good sense of self. Couldn't really ask for more.
-Nadia X
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